The man who can't be moved
by LadyPalma
Summary: Set after the series. It's the day before Isobel's wedding with Lord Merton and Richard is more devasted than he cares to admit... But is it really the end for them or is there still time to make some confessions? Complete in three chapters, each of them focusing on a different song by The Script.
1. Breakeven

**Part 1: Breakeven**

 _ **I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Just prayed to a God that I don't believe in,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **'Cause I got time while she got freedom,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **'Cause when a heart breaks**_ _ **  
**_ _ **No, it don't break even.**_

Richard stared at the glass full of scotch on his desk. It was still untouched for now, but he knew that if he had just a single taste, then it wouldn't be enough; he knew that if he took that path, then there would not be way back. But what was holding him back, after all? Everything around him was changing and, even though he liked to think that he didn't mind changes, he did very much. All the things that had a meaning in his life were quickly losing consistence: his routine job given the new status quo at the hospital on a professional level and his friendships on a more personal one.

And then there was Isobel Crawley, who was no longer one of his nurses nor something easily definable as mere friend. As always, she was on a whole different level for him, a level he didn't want to inspect further. Because after all, it was her the ultimate reason why he was now feeling the desperate need to get drunk until losing conscience; because after all, that level – whichever was – would be ceased to exist the next day.

He glanced at the clock: it was nearly ten in the evening, about fourteen hours to the wedding. He let out a frantic sigh, and right away a nervous chuckle. _Pull yourself together, Richard! It's not like you are the groom!_ \- he said to himself with a hint of sharp irony, and it were thoughts like that one to slowly driving him mad. He wanted to stop thinking, that was the only thing he truly required for the moment, but it was hard to do that when the clock didn't work at his command. He didn't want time to stop and he certainly didn't want time to run straight to the next morning, but somehow he wasn't fine with the current pace of time either.

Because time was all he got in the end and the only thing he could do with it was thinking. Or maybe complaining about his own life. Or maybe drinking.

 _ **Her best days will be some of my worst,  
She finally met a man that's gonna put her first,  
While I'm wide awake, she's no trouble sleeping,  
'Coz when a heart breaks  
no it don't break even, even no.**_

The decision was made when his tired but yet too lucid eyes landed on a well-known colourful invitation card. Finally, after doubts for her and vain hopes for himself, she was getting married with Lord Merton and she was going to live a long and healthy life with him. He had been the one to tell them so only a month before, during Lady Edith's wedding, forcing a smile in spite of the bledding in his heart. Oh, the irony of doing well his job… _You are good doctor, Richard. A very good one, indeed!_ – his mind mocked him again and he had no other way to stop it except from drinking the scotch. And so he did, he emptied the glass in one single gulp and then filled it back again.

He was passing the point of heartbreaking, but at least she was happy, or so he honestly hoped. The next day would have been probably the worst day of his all life, but it also would have been one of the best of hers. She was about to marry the man she loved, a man who would have treated her well and offered all the happiness in the world, wasn't she?

 _No!_ – his mind promptly screamed in spite of the weak sedation of alcohol, and for once he agreed with his fleeting, latent and potentially dangerous thoughts.

He wanted to tell her that she still had a clear choice to make.

He wanted to tell her that he himself was the man who truly was able to see her and love her for everything she was.

He wanted to tell her that…

 _ **What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?  
What am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're ok?  
I'm falling to pieces…  
I'm falling to pieces…**_

But he wouldn't have told anything, because he just couldn't. Plainly as it was, he was in the difficult position where he had no power to forcefully keep her with him nor any right to gently ask her to stay. He was losing her and she was losing him, they were losing each other and the worst part was that she probably wasn't even noticing. While he was planning a night of heavy thoughts and pain, she was likely in her bed dreaming about the big happy event; while he was there grieving about the unavoidable end of their friendship like it used to be before, that was the last thing on her mind.

She was happy and he had to pretend that he was fine with that. He couldn't do anything else, he couldn't say anything different, because he knew that, even if he showed her his pain and his feelings, she wouldn't have cared much about it anyway.

Therefore, at ten past ten of a cold winter night, he just let his hopes finally fall.

Falling like the scotch at the back of his throat.

Falling like his thoughts at the back of his mind.

Falling like the now crumpled invitation card on the floor.

Falling like himself and his fragile heart – to pieces.

* * *

 _ **What can I say? It's one version more of what I imagine could happen after the series to save the situation in a Richobel way:) There are two chapters to come after this one, each of them based on one different song by The Script. The song I took inspiration from to write this particular chapter was "Breakeven". See you soon, a feedback of any sort is always appreciated:)**_


	2. Nothing

**Part 2: Nothing**

 _ **So I stumble there, along the railings and the fences**_ _ **  
**_ _ **I know if we're face to face then she'll come to her senses.**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Every drunk step I take leads me to her door,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **If she sees how much I'm hurting**_ _ **  
**_ _ **She'll take me back for sure**_

There was a moment between a glass and a complain to himself, that Richard opened his eyes wide and took a sudden decision. It was his last chance, his last moment to try and stop that wedding before it was too late, because actually he was realizing that it was _not_ too late – not yet at least. Alcohol always tended to have that effect on him: giving him courage, making himself believe in his own chances, pushing him to do something stupid without any reservations left. Maybe he never wanted to stop thinking, he had just wanted to stop thinking _rationally_.

So he stood up and although he couldn't actually feel his body, it seemed to respond to the command of his mind pretty well. He headed to the door, opened it and just started walking into the empty silent hallways of the hospital, and then out into the cold darkness. What he had to lose anyway? He had already lost everything, after all. Every step was leading him to her door; he was thinking about what to tell her, about how to tell it to her… And all the while, his feet walked alone and in the right direction. It surprised him a bit how fast he got there, but not much more than his own total lack of indecision as he knocked repeatedly on her door.

And if Richard didn't hesitate to knock, Isobel didn't hesitate to open the door, appearing in front of him in all her slightly sleepy beauty and with a predictably astonished look on her face.

 _ **And I know that I'm drunk but I'll say the words,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **And she'll listen this time even though they're slurred,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **So I dialed her number and confessed to her,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **I'm still in love but all I heard was nothing…**_

"Isobel, let me speak" he started to say immediately with all the new found courage he got now.

He didn't even wait for her to invite him in, he didn't even care for that. He was in a rush, because time was running out and his impulsiveness could have run out at any moment as well. Somehow, she seemed to understand, because she only gave him a small smile and a nod; instead of interrupting him as he feared, she was actually silently encouraging and he didn't need anything else at the moment.

"Don't marry him" he said with an uncharacteristically bluntness. "I am in love with you, I am the right man for you and maybe I'm presumptuous or maybe just drunk, but I think that you belong with me… Isobel, don't marry him please. Marry me instead"

He had spoken with his whole heart open and now, whether it would be filled with joy or emptied by bleeding, it was all up to her. Now that he had spoken, he could only wait for her to make her part as well and say something. After she had allowed him to say what he had been keeping for himself for ages, he needed something else from her: he needed to be accepted or refused, basically to be taken in any sort of consideration, in a final, clear and definitive way.

"Isobel, what do you say?"

But she just remained still and silent. The smile was still on her face, even bigger than before, but it seemed paralyzed, fake, distant. She was still smiling but she was saying nothing.

 _ **Oh I wanted words but all I heard was nothing**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Oh I got nothing (Nothing, nothing...)**_ _ **  
**_ _ **I got nothing, I got nothing**_

He wanted to repeat the question one more time, he wanted to grab her by the arms and shake her; but the words were caught in his troat as he was the one being shaken. In fact, he clearly felt a hand on her shoulder, a hand that could not belong to Isobel. A pair of eyes was staring back at him, but they were not the beloved brown ones, and a voice was speaking to him, but it was not the one he was so desperatly longing to hear: a person was standing in front of him indeed, but that person was defintely not Isobel Crawley.

"Doctor Clarkson… Richard… It was just a bad dream, everything is fine"

Richard opened his eyes, this time for real, and as his eyes started to get used to the awful reality once again, he met nurse Joan's worrying face. He wanted to tell her that it had not been a bad dream at all, he wanted to tell her that nothing was right, but he didn't; not because he didn't want to appear weak though, but because he knew that that dear girl already knew all about it.

She was the orphan child of one of his friends in Downton and, a couple of years before, he had taken her under his wing, offering her a job as nurse and basically looking after her. Slowly they had developed a sort of uncle-niece relationship, maybe even a father-daughter one, and unavoidably, being the closest person he had, she had learnt much about his feelings for the presumely future Lady Merton – surely more than Isobel herself knew, maybe even more than Richard himself cared to admit.

"I think you drank too much and that is bad… Just go lay down a few hours, there is no emergency here anyway" Joan continued gently, while trying to make him stand up and follow her suggestion.

He didn't answer, but just did as she said, letting her steady her during the short walk. Only when they reached one of the empty beds destinated to the patients and she was about to hide him behind the blue curtain, he stopped her. And it was actually Doctor Clarkson and not Richard speaking.

"If there is any emergency…"

"Don't worry about it, just have some rest and get over your state. If there is any emergency, I'll call Doctor Cooper…"

As he saw the girl leaving him alone, he just placed his head on the pillow and closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a bitter chuckle. Doctor Cooper of course, the young and progressive doctor sent to practice in Downton Cottage Hospital from York. He was sure that Joan only wanted to be useful, but yet her words cut him a bit more, since he was hit by a tragic realization.

He was so terribly replaceable – by Doctor Cooper, by Lord Merton.

After all, he had nothing and he was nothing.

* * *

 **I don't know why but there is a "Nurse Joan" appearing in almost every single story I've written about Richard, so I'm glad I've finally said something more about her. Anyway, next - and also last - chapter will be a bit brighter for our good doctor, I promise:)**


End file.
